The Game Called Torture
by ForTheLoveOfLiterature01
Summary: Set after 3x15. Lucien infuriates Freya to no end. So, to get back at him, she decides to play along with his little games... it's just a bit of harmless torture. What could go wrong? Well, everything. Mostly Freya/Lucien-centric but will have my take on events after this episode and various POVs. Rated M for lemons. Frucian, Kolina, Klayley?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I'm writing this at 3am as I just can't get this ship out of my head. As mentioned in description, takes place after 3x15.**

Freya stood on the balcony of her home, watching the flittering people dance up and down the streets, back and forth, back and forth. A warm breeze swept through the city, and her short, golden hair swayed like the drunkards below, and she leaned over the side, drinking in the light. This city she had become acquainted to over the last few months never seemed to take a moment to breathe. There was always something going on – and tonight it was some sort of festival. Whether it was to celebrate something genuine, or just an excuse for the locals to bleed the tourists dry, both figuratively and literally, she wasn't sure.

A sigh escaped her pink lips.

"My dear sister, please tell me you aren't dissatisfied with my presence already?" a calm, eloquent voice called out from the other side of the room.

Elijah sat across the room in a leather chair, his knees crossed and a book in his perfectly manicured hands.

"No, brother. It's just… it's been three days now since Niklaus left with Hayley and Hope and we have yet to hear from them. I'm just worried for their safety is all."

And she truly was. More than for her own. Three days had gone by and they had not heard a single word from their brother, and she could not track them as that would mean disabling the current spell and thus leading to other witches finding out he wasn't actually in New Orleans as they claimed he was. Three days had gone by and no evil threats had reared their ugly heads to threaten them for the whereabouts of the hybrid. No enemies or long-lost sires, not even a raging, psychotic female. No one had asked about the white oaks existence, and there had yet to be a lead on it according to the smooth-talking Marcel. The reagent Vincent had seemingly disappeared from the public eye, which would not have been suspicious had Camille not revealed to Elijah two days ago that the warlock had consulted the ancestors on request of that vampire (Marco, Lorenzo… argh, it didn't matter now what his name was – he was dead) to find the white oak. When she had conducted a spell in order to find him or the white oak, if it did exist, she came up blank – he was masking his location strongly. It had also been three days since they had heard from Kol, too. When Freya questioned whether this was normal for him, Elijah simply shrugged in the most undignified way.

 _"His body has spent a good few years dead, Freya. I imagine he would like to get his blood pumping a bit before he decides to join us again."_

She had thought he meant he needed to feed more, until she saw the suggestive smirk he rarely wore – to which she grimaced disgustedly.

 _"Davina Claire is only a child, Elijah!"_

He just laughed, and it seemed to be the most content he had been in a while.

It probably was a nice break for him; three days without someone staining his fresh, dry-cleaned handkerchiefs, three days without Niklaus' excessive paranoia, three days without the worry of Hayley's whereabouts plaguing him.

But for her, the three days had been utterly boring. Three days seemed almost as long as the hundred years she had to wait to wake up again. For some reason she could not connect with Finn to speak to him, and she didn't want to ruin the fake world she had created for Rebecca by stopping by every two minutes. And Elijah was like a stick in the mud; he insisted she not leave the compound. It seemed paranoia ran in the family.

It was a Friday night, and whilst there was no shortage of red wine and bourbon stocked in the cupboards, she would rather not spend it with someone whose idea of fun was to read _A Memoirs of Napoleon._ In French of course.

And so the eldest Mikaelson found herself excusing herself from the lounge, declaring she would probably go to bed early, seeing as it was only eight thirty, to which her brother replied goodnight. She waved him goodnight, and shut the door behind her. Once inside the comfort of her own bedroom, the witch cast a quick spell that would hide her presence and cancel any noises.

After an hour of preparation, she stepped back, freshly showered and tall, black stilettos clipping at the ground, to admire her handiwork. Ash blonde hair was curled lightly around her face, and she chose to do something different for her make up tonight, so she wasn't easily recognized. A dark plum lipstick, smoky eyes and defined cheek bones made her take another glimpse at her face. She shimmied the tight, black leather skirt down her hips, and straightened the sheer, white camisole out. Bracelets adorned her wrists and she frowned at her outfit for a moment, deciding what was missing, until she slid a long, simple necklace over her neck and took off the blue gem, giving it a peck before tucking it away under her pillow.

Freya was ready to go, and the excitement of it all was bubbling up in her chest. She had never snuck out before as a child – she was too deathly afraid of getting caught. Now, the fear wasn't there, but the thrill of going against her brother's wishes all too similarly resembled that desire she had as a child to rebel.

Her escape route was down the fire escape and from there it was a short fall that she easily drifted down like a feather. Levitation was like magic one-oh-one.

Freya put a few blocks between her and the compound – she knew where she was going and where she wanted to go first. New Orleans had definitely provided a good scene for a thousand-year-old immortal like herself who had woken from the depths of slumber to a world filled with new inventions every hundred years. She liked to have fun, blow off a little steam. Apparently, her and Rebecca were the same in that respect. A good distraction was what she needed for her to fully enjoy her 'break' – unlike Elijah, she wasn't one much for musty books. She preferred her distractions to be tall, young and naïve. It was better that way.

Physically speaking, she would be about twenty-four. That was when she stopped aging completely, which was strange because her brothers were turned when they were older than her – Niklaus at the age of twenty-five and Elijah at twenty-seven – and Rebecca at the same age despite their being a six-year age difference. Men these days who were twenty-four, usually had the mental capacity of a sixteen-year old teenager; they only cared for sex. And that was fine with her – it was all she expected of them anyway.

As soon as she stepped to the line for the front door of her favourite club, at least fifty people waiting at the door, she waltzed right past everyone and waved to the bouncers, who opened the door for her hastily, despite protests from younger girls waiting in line.

The music spilled on to the street, and smoke outpoured. She smiled and stepped into the warm embrace of the thumping music.

It was dark in the club, save for the flashing lights that blinded anyone who wasn't used to them. She found that out the first time she had attempted to go clubbing with Hayley. After a while, she began going by herself, which was sad, but she had made a few friends so far.

"Hey gorgeous, long time no see!" the tall, handsome bartender yelled over the loud music as she approached the bar and sat on a stool.

"Hey Danny, I need some shots, pronto." She had attempted to adopt a "current" way of talking, as people had stared at her strangely. Freya forked out her token platinum American Express, curtesy of Elijah Mikaelson, and attempted to pass it to him. The owner stepped in, a burly man named John Smith (she was sure that wasn't his real name), and pushed her hand to the side.

"No need, I told you I was buying you drinks the next time you came in here. I don't know what you did, but you saved my club!" He praised her, and she smiled.

"It was nothing, really!" the blonde shook her head. A month ago they had been having a drop in business, due to an influx of vampires hunting in here and people being compelled to forget they were ever there – which lead to them forgetting that the bar ever existed. She fixed that problem by asking Marcel to kindly ask the vampires to stay away from this bar and a few others. Should they not, she would make sure they would be getting a visit from Niklaus.

Having the most psychotic-murderous hybrid in history as your brother had its perks.

And so she accepted as many free drinks as she could handle, and another perk of being a Mikaelson was that she could handle a lot. She was sure by the tenth shot they were beginning to regret not accepting her unlimited credit card balance.

Freya had been having a good time so far, chatting away with the handsome bartender and dancing with the young men who offered their hand. By some stage the grinding turned in to dancing on table tops, and the glasses of wine here and there morphed into tequila shots off the washboard abs of the bartender.

At some point it had occurred to her that she was having far too much fun, far too quickly and needed to sober up before she spent the rest of the night on the floor. The eldest Mikaelson told the bartender she would be back, before going to the VIP area of the club, a secluded spot sectioned off by red velvet curtains that hung from the ceiling and had their own private bars. She pulled back the curtains to find an empty one but came up short – the only other one that wasn't currently hosting an orgy or cocaine addicts already had an occupant slumped over the side of the couch. She snorted; someone couldn't handle their alcohol, she thought smugly.

Turning on her heel to leave, as if her brain was purposely trying to make her out as a hypocrite, she swayed from side to side and had to catch herself from falling.

"Ahh, why not. This person is far too drunk to care whether I join him," she mumbled to herself.

She sat down on the same couch as the person, and laid her head back, staring up at the high beamed ceiling. A crystal chandelier hung down like icicles, bathing the area in a soft light. It was nice, peaceful, calming. The music had slowed down significantly to some eerie house music, and it was lulling her to sleep. She could just stay here forever, suspended in time, just reliving this weightless, feathery feeling over and over again. It was as if she was levitating in her consciousness.

Blue eyes snapped open immediately.

"What am I doing? I'm going to get killed if I leave myself so vulnerable like this." Freya berated herself, combing a hand through her wild hair.

She stood for a second and helped herself to the private bar, nodding in approval at the drunk man's taste as she poured herself a glass of aged wine. Her lips had just touched the rim when she heard a voice behind here.

"Excuse me, don't you know it's rude to help yourself to other people's alcohol? Then again, with an arse like that, you can help yourself to whatever you want darling…" the voice was heavy with sleep and rough, but still thick with both an accent and arrogance. She spun on her toes, ready to throw the drink in his face for such a vile comment, but found herself nose to nose with the perpetrator.

Who was none other than Lucien Castle.


	2. Chapter 2

**I was so pleased at the responses I got from the first chapter, and I was so excited to actually share this second chapter with you guys, I got it out in less than 24 hours since the first update! So far I have an idea of what I'm doing with this story, as well as significant plot points on my take of what happens after the last episode, so hopefully I will get the next update out soon. Also, I changed the title for this as I thought it suited better.**

The sly grin was immediately wiped off his face for a brief moment, replaced with astonishment for a millisecond, before returning again even bigger than before. Freya inadvertly took a step back and bumped into the bar behind her.

" _Well, well, well_. What do we have here? Freya Mikaelson, what might _you_ be doing here in _my_ booth?" His tone was still slurred slightly and he was drawling out his words carefully, as his hungry-looking eyes roamed over her body, and suddenly she felt self-conscious about her choice of clothing and resisted the urge to pull her skirt down and cover her chest. She wanted to slip out from this corner she was backed into, and sensing this the vampire stretched his arms out and placed them at either side of her, blocking her exits. He was less than a foot away, and she could smell him. It was a mix of bourbon, dried blood and a quite pleasant smelling cologne. Freya kept her eyes on anything but his – the way he was looking at her made her anxious. She had seen that wild look on other vampire's eyes before they made a meal out of whatever it was directed to.

"You do look absolutely ravishing tonight, I must say. I quite like this look on you. Like a sexy witch Halloween costume or something." He chuckled to himself, pleased with his ironic analogy.

"Lucien, you're drunk. Please take a step back before I –"

"Before you what? Tie me up to that chair again? Oh, please do. Maybe we can hire that cheap motel and grab a bottle of pinot to go?" he flashed that impossibly bright grin at her and it unnerved her to no end. She felt a sudden impulse to show this idiot who he was trying to make a fool out of. Did he realise who she was?

She was not just Freya Mikaelson, sister of the Original vampires – as well as his ex-sire might she add. She was far more than just a convenient witch to call when they needed a locator spell.

Freya Mikaelson was a thousand plus year old immortal who had been taught the art of magic by the one who taught the witch who made him being alive right then and there possible. She did not deserve to be treated like a piece of meat.

Well, not when she didn't want to, anyway. And certainly not by this pompous ass.

She was contemplating what to do with this surge of anger as she stared at those annoying, thousand dollar shoes of his. Maybe snap his neck and make him wake up in a shallow grave, just like that psychotic bitch he fancied so did to her. Or tie him to a chair like he wanted, with chains and weights and then throw him into the harbour.

So many endless possibilities. So many ways to torture him. Her Mikaelson mind began working immediately, and came up with a quick solution far better than any other.

Without warning, Freya pushed her body against his, sort of surprising herself at how muscular he was, but that thought was discarded when she heard the sound of shock he made in response. His fingers let go of the bar and instinctively reached for her waist to stop her from falling, but because of his shock at her abrupt actions he was unable to stop himself from tumbling back onto the couch, with her in his lap. She now faced a most untimely position, which she had counted on but not really thought as far ahead. Her legs straddled his lap, leather skirt hitching up to reveal creamy, soft thighs. If she was tipsy before, she was definitely sober now, and fully aware of the dangerous territory she was getting herself into.

That idea just seemed to fuel her all the more. What better way to cure boredom than to instigate a little catastrophe?

It seemed Lucien did as well. His hands were still clasped around her narrow hips, and he looked absolutely horrified upon realising the position they were in. As if that wasn't bad enough, his body was even quicker to react to this new revelation, as she felt pressing against her core.

Freya relished every passing second the expression on his face remained there. This was her chance, the blonde thought to herself, to finally make him feel shame for how he talked to her. She pressed down more, sinking as low as she could into his body. His body reacted again on impulse, twitching against her, and she couldn't help but feel flushed more but continued to press down anyway, as if gravity was aiding in her endeavour.

"Freya, what the hell are you doing?! Get off of me right now!" he half-shouted, half-whispered, his voice taking on a husky undertone. She leaned in to his ear, this time move up and down along his lap.

"Make me," she whispered, biting on his lower ear lobe. An unwilling groan left his mouth before he could stop it. Freya noticed a change in his breathing, as his breaths became more laboured and sharper, his chest heaving up and down.

"Freya. You need to get off. _Now_."

She finally met his eyes and almost surrendered then and there. They were filled with lust and hunger and small red veins had begun to form around his eyes, as they did when vampires were in blood-thirsty killer mode. But she knew she could push further. This was supposed to be torture, and the first rule of torture was to not give in until your enemy does. She winced as she felt his fingers dig into her side, but she ignored the pain.

"I thought this was what you wanted, Lucien? You are constantly flirting with me, and making obscene jokes at my expense. Or perhaps your mischievous ways are all a ruse? I can show you how to _really_ have some fun," she gazed into his dark eyes sultrily, and ran a slow tongue over her lips, delighting in watching his stare flicker to them. The longing look in his eyes made her stomach flutter. Freya knew she was enjoying this a little too much, but oh well. It had been a while since she had indulged in the company of another man, since Klaus had kicked that frat boy out before she could do anything, and just being busy with saving her sibling's lives in general. She had set out to torture him, and if this meant torturing herself as well, then so be it. And she couldn't deny that she didn't find him attractive – with his dark eyes, chiselled face and neatly groomed hair. Sure, perhaps the expensive shoes were a tad excessive, but he definitely dressed the part of the first sire.

Lucien wasn't sure what had gotten into him, or the usually prudent Freya for that matter. It was probably a combination of too much vodka and the faint lighting, but being as close to her as he was in that position, really made him notice how beautiful she was.

Lithe, slender body that seemed to fit perfectly against his like a puzzle piece. Soft, warm skin that showed that no matter how old he realised she was, she had not aged a day and was warmer than the marble bodies of a typical immortal vampire. The blonde locks that fell gently to her shoulders, ruffled as to add to that wild look she had, and the wise, ocean blue eyes that guarded the depths of her knowledge, were the only physical reminiscences she had to his ex-sire.

 _Fuck_ , Lucien cursed inwardly as Freya dipped her hips against his again, _Klaus is going to behead me and feed me my own genitals if he caught me in this position_ , he thought.

 _Well_ , his mind replied, _it's a good thing that Klaus isn't here then._

He could hear her heart beat had increased, and her breaths had become shallower, as if she was trying to control her intakes of air. She didn't let it on, but her body reacted against her will as much as his did, and he could feel a pool of heat building up against him. What was he doing? Sure, he was always up for teasing the immortal witch, and for some reason loved getting under her skin. Her reactions often consisted of waving off his comments and sexual innuendos with her own witty replies, maybe a humorous smile that made him feel as if he wasn't being a total pig. So why was she purposely initiating this? Lucien would not have pegged Freya Mikaelson as the type who had one-night stands. In fact, he was surprised at seeing her in a nightclub, wearing such a revealing outfit of her own accord nonetheless. He would have thought she would be like Elijah – not much for partying, and turned up her nose at being seen at such a hovel.

Apparently not.

He could usually control his hunger - almost a thousand years was a long time to perfect self-control (the youngest Mikaelson could use a good lesson in that) - but for some reason it was hard to do so when she was practically forcing herself against him and stirring up desires he thought he had banished long ago. Her scent was intoxicating as well; blends of sweet herbs, evident alcohol (tequila, from the smell), and the strong aroma of her blood made Lucien feel as if he was drunk again, though he was sure he was sobered up by now. He wanted to push her off, but she was so stuck to him he was sure she would hurt him. His hands on her hips were skimming under her top, resting just above the leather material that was riding up her legs, exposing pale and supple thighs that gave him an unexpected desire to run his tongue up and down. He felt his hands drift up her shirt of their own accord, resting on her rib cage, just under her breasts. She hadn't worn a bra - it made the shirt look funny - and he could see through the sheer material her free nipples, standing at attention and the perfect level for his mouth. He began to sweat slightly; he needed to get out of this position right this instance.

"Fuck, Freya get off now please. If Elijah or one of Marcel's lackeys saw us like this..." he growled again when she continued to rub against him, and then felt his head being tilted slightly as she tugged at his hair, grasping her long fingers in to the roots. She made him meet her eyes, which were burning with a fierce defiance.

"I think you are forgetting that I am a grown woman. I don't need my brother's approval to do what I want. They do not control my actions." It just occurred to him how there was no hint of a slur to her voice.

 _So she isn't drunk then…_ that thought seemed to placate him. It would look even worst even someone was to find them like this and she was in a state of drunken stupor – then they would be able to say he took advantage of her. In an instant, her mood seemed to shift back to the light hearted girl she was a second before.

"You may not care about whether your family finds us entangled like this, but I, for one, would very much like to keep my privates, thank you very much." He grumbled, struggling to sit up. Truth is, he could probably just zip his way out of this position, but like the woman in his lap, he was enjoying this as much as she was, if not more. He couldn't deny that she wasn't a beautiful woman. And that's what she was – a woman. Her waist was narrow but her hips were wide, as if made to bear children. She was so much more different to a certain girl he had spent his life pining after. While he struggled, he heard a soft sound escape her lips and her body began to shake slightly.

"Please don't tell me that you are afraid of my _younger_ brothers?" Freya had her hands over her mouth in an attempt to stop the giggles that racked her body. Lucien realised that this was the first time he had heard her laugh; it was a pleasant sound and unlike her typically stoic mannerisms. He liked it.

Freya found the thought amusing but also enthralling. _This will work,_ she thought to herself.

"I think you have proved yourself useful enough to them that they would consider sparing you, Lucien. Besides," she leaned in further, wrapping her arms around his taunt neck and sweeping down to snatch his bottom lip between her teeth, biting down gently before releasing it and whispering "we haven't done anything yet that we should be ashamed of."

He shuddered in pleasure, his mind going blank as primal urges took over him.

 _I'll probably regret this later… but damn this woman is driving me crazy!_

His hands moved from their place on her hips to gripping her ass and lifting her in the air. He flew them to the other side of the booth, resting the petite woman on the bar before using his legs to separate hers more. Lucien began to ravish her neck eagerly, trailing kisses and sucking on her collar bone, earning genuine moans out of the witch.

Freya grinned, letting the vampire carry out his desires, all the while basking in the giddy sensation building in the pit of her stomach. She let his fingers go to work, as one tangled in her hair and the other unzipping the leather skirt from behind her. They were skilful and experienced, having hundreds of years of practice. Yet, they were also smooth and gentle, lingering on her skin in just the right places and brushing against her sensitive spots. His own excitement was evident as well. Freya found herself ripping his shirt off – it probably cost a fortune – but he didn't seem too worried. She marvelled his bare chest, an eyebrow raised. It looked as if he had been carved from marble. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting; perhaps a hairy chest that he would beat on like the ape he was. Lucien didn't seem like the type who liked getting sweaty, so it was definitely a happy surprise that he was so… well built. His pants hung low on his hips, exposing the v dip that she found strangely sexy and leading to his now evident bulge.

Where he put his mouth and hands had left a scorching sensation over her skin. If he kept on drawing his tongue over her exposed chest like that, she would definitely submit to her desires. If it were any other person, she would gleefully let them continue their exploration of her body. But it wasn't some random frat boy or visiting tourist. This was Lucien Castle.

It was now or never.

Pulling his face up to hers, she met his eyes for a fleeting instant. They were set ablaze with a passion she hadn't seen in centuries. It made her feel something stir within the depth of her soul. She leaned in to capture his lips with her own, but stopped just a few centimetres from the delicious plump, wet lips.

"You didn't think it would be this easy, did you?" she murmured innocently. The look of confusion was priceless.

Before he could reply, Freya twisted her fingers as if turning a dial, and he fell unconscious to the ground. The blonde stood there for a bit, trying to catch her breath and recompose herself. Zipping up her skirt and fixing out her shirt, she grabbed her discarded purse and heels, stepping over the half-naked body.

A pang of guilt hit her, but she merely shrugged off the feeling. Freya turned to leave, but glanced back at Lucien first. She had thought it before, but it struck her again how sweet he actually looked when he was unconscious.

It was regrettable; she was having such a good time and he wasn't all too bad with his mouth and hands, so her mind wondered what else he could do.

Maybe, if he wasn't such an ass, she would actually take him up on his offer some time.

At least he had learnt a valuable lesson – do not mess with Freya Mikaelson.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so I realize that I am a tad obsessed with my new OTP. Three chapters in three days? That has got to be some sort of record for me. I just absolutely love this relationship and am crossing my fingers that it becomes canon and Lucien isn't killed off. Hopefully they keep him... he could be like the Enzo of New Orleans, but older and bolder. Also, has anyone seen the instagram posts of Andrew Lees and Riley Voelkel? They are adorable together, and I am so sure that she is hinting that there will be Frucien moments to come.**

 **Warning: smut ahead; proceed with caution.**

Freya woke to a blinding light and sharp clicks on her wooden floor.

"Freya, it is well past ten o'clock and I have pressing matters to attend to. I don't understand how you would be able to sleep so long after your early retreat last night," Elijah's articulate voice followed the sound of the curtains being drawn back one-by-one. The eldest Mikaelson attempted to cover her pounding head with a pillow, but it was quickly snatched out of her hands.

"Oh, but you weren't tucked in fast asleep in your bed last night, were you my dear sister?"

She swore inwardly, thinking of an excuse for her absence. The witch was sure she had taken all the necessary precautions. She set up a boundary around her room to give the impression that she was home. She was sure she hadn't been too loud upon her return – was she? Now that she thought about it, Freya couldn't for the life of her remember what time she came home. Or how she got home, for that matter.

 _It must've been an exciting night…_ she didn't linger on it for long, far too used to temporary lapses of memory. When you had spent most of your life asleep, you found dreams and reality got scrambled from time to time. The immortal still woke in a cold sweat some nights, believing she was still imprisoned in Dahlia's torturous cell, only to realise that she was actually in her own bed, in her own home, with her own family.

Those thoughts always seemed to soothe her.

"Brother, I don't know what you are talking about. I was here all night –" she feigned innocence.

"Please refrain from lying to me. That must have worked on Klaus, but I assure you I am far more competent that our younger brother," he stole a glance at the discarded heels and inhaled the scent of alcohol emanating from his sister, turning up his nose slightly.

"Freya, I thought I had made myself clear that you were not to leave the compound. Not with our enemies on the loose and the whole vampire world on its toes. I would have expected this behaviour from Rebecca perhaps, but not from you sister." The disappointment in his tone was obvious.

"Elijah please do not treat me as if I am a fragile doll. I thought I had made it clear that I am certainly capable of protecting myself as well. May I remind you that I am your older sister and that I should be respected as such," Freya was trying to keep her declaration strong, but the night had taken a toll on her, and she was dealing with a serious hangover so early in the day. Sure, it was nothing that a simple concoction couldn't handle, although she didn't understand why she was so hungover. Had she drunk much? Oh god, she hoped she hadn't made a complete fool of herself.

 _I think I remember tequila shots… and Danny… endless supply of drinks…_ Freya struggled to sort through her muddled memories, but one irritating face immediately came to mind.

 _Lucien._

She was sure that was a dream, wasn't it? Absentmindedly, the witch reached to touch her lips.

"Freya!" Elijah broke her revelry, and the still half-asleep witch turned her head to see her brother staring down at her in worry and slight disapproval.

"Hm, brother? You were saying something?"

"Yes. I was just reminding you of the fact that you were kidnapped by a woman who barely reached your shoulders, and that you shouldn't underestimate the strength of those coming for us Freya. If Niklaus' own apparent fear isn't enough of an indication that you too should be terrified, then please consider that they will be far more dangerous and powerful that Aurora," when she was about to defend herself, Elijah held up a finger, pacing around her room. "Granted, Aurora is a thousand-year-old vampire. But these new threats will be adamant on either ending my sire line or using one of us a bait in order to lure out our brother, who I'm sure has no shortage of nemesis just itching to see him dead. Now, this news of the white oak is also unsettling. Lucien had learnt of a certain dark object that was able to seal away any undead, and I am absolutely sure the threats closing in on us would have had centuries to plot their revenge and have also acquired magical items of interest. What I would like for you to do today is to gather any information you can about any whispers of these items, so we will know at least what to expect and won't have our feet swept up from under us."

Freya perked up at the mention of a task to focus on.

"That sounds great. I can go see Cami and ask to take a look at the registry of dark objects her family has acquired –"

"You will not leave the compound, so Camille must come here."

"What do you mean I can't leave the compound?"

"It means exactly what it sounds like."

"But Elijah –"

"No buts, Freya. Unfortunately, as aforementioned, I do have urgent business to deal with today. The reagent Vincent has not been seen or heard from since Klaus' departure, and with what Cami told us I am afraid that he has taken it upon himself to find the white oak. Given that if he has discovered its whereabouts and failed to inform us, I will kill him."

"Please, don't kill Vincent. Let me talk to him. I will try to persuade him to give us the white oak instead. If you go threatening him, he will feel more animosity towards our family and if he has the white oak, Vincent could possibly end your life. You should let me go instead," Freya begged.

"No, I shall go. I have a second task for you as well – Davina Claire has informed me that she has not heard from Kol and is unable to locate him. I did not want to tell the poor girl that it was natural for our brother to go off on his own like this and she seemed desperate for help. So I told her that you would give your assistance in finding him."

"You said I wasn't to leave the compound," Freya frowned, concern starting to gather in her gut for the youngest of their clan.

"I did. But, I will make an exception. I have made the appropriate arrangements for someone to keep you safe."

As if on cue, the bane of her existence entered the room.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. I trust you had a good night's sleep?"

The ancient vampire leaned against her door frame, a smirk playing on his lips.

She envisioned those lips ravishing her neck eagerly, trailing kisses and sucking on her collar bone…

Was it just her imagination, or was she burning up?

"Oh god, I think I'm going to be sick," Freya clasped a hand over her mouth, rushing up to the bathroom, before realising she was only wearing a singlet and lacy underwear. Horrified, she tore the sheets from her bed and wrapped them around her body while pushing past her brother, who had averted his eyes out of respect, to her en suite. She emptied the contents of her stomach, which solely consisted of the liquid poison she called alcohol, into the toilet.

A whistle echoed throughout the bathroom.

"My, my love. You really should contemplate easing up on the drinks next time, especially if you cannot handle the consequences," Lucien taunted from the door, and she resisted the urge to vomit again. The immortal flushed the toilet and secured the thin material in place before washing her hands and splashing her face with cold water. The nausea had passed, but she definitely needed that herbal concoction and some greasy food in order to feel prepared for the day. And a nice hot bath would be absolutely divine.

"Actually, I think it may have been your presence that triggered the onslaught of nausea. Brother it is far too early in the day for me to deal with your guests. Please get him out of our home this instant."

Before he could reply, Lucien piped up again, "did Elijah not tell you? I am in charge of babysitting duty today. How delightful, dear Freya, we get to spend the entire day together! Does this news not excite you? Because it certainly gets my blood coursing."

Freya's expression must have been one of alarm, because when she turned to her brother to confirm this, he had an apologetic look etched into his fine features.

"Now Freya, I implore you to think of this as merely a compulsory preventive measure. Lucien is probably the only person in this city who can protect you just as well as any of us can –"

"I told you I don't need to be protected!"

"Yes, because you were definitely not kidnapped by a five-foot psychotic vampire or anything," Lucien retorted, arms crossed over his slightly exposed chest, and she shot him a death glare to which he returned a dashing grin.

"After your disappearance last night I was forced to resort to such measures, sister. I simply cannot leave you here by yourself, and this was the only other option. Rest assured, Lucy will take extremely good care of you. Should he not, I will kill him myself," Elijah stated nonchalantly, giving Lucien a pat on the shoulder as he left the room. He paused for a second like that, and leaned in to murmur something in Lucien's ear.

"If any harm comes to my sister, so help me Lucien…" he trailed off, leaving it up to the younger vampire's mind to visualize all the colourful things the Original would do to him. With that, he flew out of the room with nothing more than a slight gust of wind in his wake.

After a few seconds, Lucien clapped his hands together, the sound deafening to Freya's ears.

"So, shall we continue from where we left off last night?" his humorous grin darkened as he stalked closer to her, and Freya gripped the sheets tightly, backing into the sink. A feeling of déjà vu washed over her.

"What are you talking about?"

Lucien paused in his stalk, and his expression changed to surprise.

"You… don't remember anything from last night?"

"I don't know what I remember yet. Did we see each other?" Freya stared at him perplexedly, trying to recall meeting him last night. He didn't reply immediately; she welcomed his silence. It was all hazy so far, but she was sure a good bath would clear her mind. The petite blonde moved to the edge of the pristine, claw-footed tub, carefully bending down to put the plug in and turned the knob, a blast of water flowing from it. Steam rose from the clear water, filling the bathroom. A hand delicately reached out to grab the bottle on the marble bench and tipped its contents in to the rising water. With a flick of her wrists, the candles around the room lit themselves, illuminating the dark space with a soft light. Another flick of her wrists and the blinds were drawn. She inhaled the sweet smell of the candles, smiling to herself.

Turning to find that Lucien was still standing in her bathroom, his brows pulled down as if he was solving a difficult equation.

"Are you just going to stand there all day? Do you not have anything better to do?"

He snapped from his reflections and the mischievous smile returned.

"Is that an invitation? By all means love, resume your business. Don't mind me."

"Ugh, can you please just leave already?"

He didn't seem phased and didn't show any indication of leaving.

"I am sure I have proved that if I wanted to, I could easily hurt you. I won't ask you again. Go make yourself useful elsewhere," she waved him off, and with hesitation, he obliged, and she slammed the door in his face, an audible click following thereafter.

 _Because locking the door would definitely do good against a thousand-year-old vampire_ , he snorted.

Lucien heard the water shut off from the other side of the door, and Freya humming to herself as he envisaged her naked body being immersed into the water, pale skin taking on a pink flush when it came in contact with the heat. His eyes, that had drifted shut of their own accord, snapped open.

 _Damned it all to hell. I knew this was a bad idea coming here at Elijah's request. If that bloody stick hadn't threatened my life I could be out sipping mojitos right now, avoiding that little minx…_ Lucien waltzed around the room, which was remarkably neat for a woman, cursing his own stupidity over and over again.

 _So far, she cannot recall the events that took place last night. Which I don't know whether is a blessing or a curse. On one hand, should she not recollect her memories, it'll save the awkwardness. However, keeping my hands to myself after seeing exactly how she can be given the right amount of alcohol is going to be painfully excruciating, to say the very least. Following her home last night probably didn't help my situation either…_

Shortly after Freya had left the club, whether it was due to her lack of focus or maybe she had developed a soft spot for him – most likely the former – Lucien regained consciousness. You could imagine his fury when he found himself face down on the dirty floor, one of his favourite shirts completely ripped and thus forced to compel some poor fellow to give him the clothes of his back and a small drink of the metallic kind. He found the witch a few blocks away, stumbling over herself while taking long swigs of a bottle of bourbon, and decided to punish her. She seemed so giddy, laughing and swinging herself around lamp posts as if she was the star of a Broadway musical.

" _That Lucien Castle! Who does he think he is?" another tip of the bottle down her throat, "just because he is devilishly good looking and maybe a little too good with his mouth, does not give him the right to disrespect me like that!" she grumbled to herself._

 _Lucien chuckled to himself as he stalked behind her, watching her swerve all over the empty roads. Occasionally she would pass a group of people who would holler at her, and she would ignore them. At some point someone even tried to stop her, a vampire he thought, but upon realizing who it was they backed away slowly._

 _Figures, these infants are afraid of a ninety-pound witch._

 _When they eventually reached her home, his darks eyes watched in amusement as she immediately quieted down, as if she was some sort of teenager who had been out past curfew. She haphazardly climbed up the fire escape, apprehensive that she would fall back and crack her head, but she managed to crawl through her window, giggling to herself at the near-death experience._

 _He could sense there were a few guards littered around the premises, most likely Strix, but none were stationed on this side of the building, and if he was right, Elijah was out at the moment. Her room led out to a balcony, and he watched as she opened the doors wide and leaned over the railing, inhaling slowly. She stayed like that for a moment, before she retreated to her room, closing the doors behind her. Lucien jumped to a balcony opposite hers – the streets were fairly narrow in New Orleans, wondering if he was stealthy enough to sneak up on her. Freya had left him in quite the predicament; his blood was still pumping to a particular place and he felt the need to punish her for that. Her room was quite open – tall windows and a lot of them, so it was quite easy to see through._

 _The witch came into his line of sight and he licked his lips, poising himself to jump onto her balcony. He stopped himself when she began to undress before his eyes, peeling off articles of clothing and tossing them to the side, the bottle still in hand. First came the skin tight skirt, which had left little to the imagination already, but now shimmied down her hips and exposed long legs and lacy, black underwear that shaped her bottom perfectly. Next was the camisole, pulled over head and exposing a flat, taunt stomach and round, full breasts. She carefully wiped the make up from her face using a hot towel, and rubbed at places of her skin, as if she was trying to rub away the memory of his lips being there. She ran her fingers through her hair, detangling it, and tipped every single last drop of the alcohol on to her tongue, before placing it on the side of her bed. The blonde, slender figure collapsed into her bed, fanning out on top of the blanket with a contented sigh._

 _Lucien was not expecting what was to come next._

 _His eyes practically bulged out of his forehead when her hand began to lightly trace its way down her stomach, before dipping into the waistband of her panties._

" _Fuck me," was all he could say as he watched her other hand take her nipple between her fingers and pinch it, a hiss escaping her pink, wet lips._

 _Lucien thought he must have been dreaming, as he bared witness to the immortal witch, Freya bloody Mikaelson, slowly work herself up to a frenzy. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, feeling himself grow harder and harder. Her fingers darted in and out of her core, before she took her time to caress the most sensitive part of her clit in small circles, whimpers and moans filling the silence only he could hear._

 _Her chest rose rapidly, and her mouth finally gained the ability to utter a single word over and over again._

" _Lucien," she panted out heavily._

 _He almost exploded right then and there. He mind was telling him he should look away, that he was impeding on the most private of all moments, and that he was truly a disgusting pig for peeping on her like this. But his body had other desires that needed to be relieved. Without a second thought, Lucien unbuckled his belt and reached into his boxers, wrapping a hand around his stiff shaft, before gently tugging it back and forth, eyes glazed over with lust as he watched the witch._

 _Freya soon found her underwear was only getting in the way, and discarded them too, so she was fully naked and spread out, to his immense pleasure. Lucien gritted his teeth together, pumping his member faster as she spread the lips of her womanhood and plunged two, three fingers inside of her continuously, then returning to work on her clit with her now soaking digits._

 _Her eyes were sealed shut as she felt every wave of pleasure wash over her, but her mouth began to form an o-shape and the sexy way in which she whimpered his name over and over again only fueled his own ecstasy. The feeling in the pit of his stomach grew more and more with every exclamation, and so did hers. When she came hard, she continued to pant his name, and the final full realization that the thought of him is what drove her to climax hit the vampire, and he hissed as he released his hot, sticky seed into his hand. He pumped his shaft a few more times, slumped against the brick wall, and simultaneously, they both breathed a sigh of content. Lucien watched as Freya went over to her washing basket and put the bunched up panties in it, before slipping on another pair and a tank top and crumpling in bed, fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow._

Lucien was quick to get the hell out of there, for fear of being castrated by Elijah. After showering thoroughly, he spent the night restless, unable to get the sight of her perfect body or the curve of her smile, the way his name rolled off her tongue or the feeling in his chest when it did, out of his mind.

So when Elijah had paid him a visit this morning, requesting that he play bodyguard for the object of his sexual frustrations, he had mixed emotions about said request. Guilt, disgust, exhilaration, anger, and lust were all obvious to him, but there were other subtle emotions that he did not comprehend. He saw there were only two options available to him – to completely ignore the problem (a tactic he loved to employ) or to face it head on (not used very often, but it held more excitement that the former and he was curious as to see her own reaction). He had decided to go with the latter, but fortunately (or unfortunately, depending from where you viewed the situation), she was completely oblivious to the distress she had caused him last night.

 _Listen to her, humming to herself…_ he thought in resentment. She was entirely ignorant.

Perhaps it was a good thing; he could go about his usual mannerisms without any embarrassment, and this would also solve the problem of guilt and disgust. He couldn't be guilty for his peeping-Tom like actions or disgusted that he had whacked off to her like a hormonal teenager (something he rarely did because he could always find a more than willing partner) if it didn't exist.

Yes, he could do that. Pretend it never happened. Lying came naturally to Lucien; deceiving others was like a second nature. Surely, deceiving himself couldn't be all that hard, right?


	4. Chapter 4

**Anyone who reads this story should probably expect less frequent updates. I am so sorry for taking so long to update compared the the first three chapters that I managed to upload over three days. As I might have mentioned previously, I am in my second year of university, studying law nevertheless, so you can imagine I don't get a lot of time on my hands in between work and studying.**

 **Some quick story concerns: having watched the extended promo and it being implied that Freya was more or less responsible for Finn's return, I have reached a sort of dilemma and am unsure as to how to approach this, or even how to approach Finn in general as I think he would be the hardest to write. As for Frucien banter, what does everyone think so far of this chapter? I feel as if my writing may not do them the justice they deserve. Any suggestions or assurances would be amazing. Also, would anyone be up for longer chapters but less frequent updating? With other stories I always seem to push the 5-6k word count, but with this I am more concerned with getting it out there for everyone to enjoy. So leave a review with your preference!**

* * *

Lucien was helping himself to the fresh blood, courtesy of the Mikaelson's maid, when Freya came down the stairs freshly bathed and no longer sporting a hangover. The herbal tea had definitely done the trick, and the bath removed any smell of alcohol, vomit and what she could have sworn was sex. That only added to her fear that she had done something she should be ashamed of under the influence last night, but nothing had come back to her so far so she considered herself safe.

"Personally darling, I thought the half-naked look suited better to my tastes, though you look lovely all the same," blood dripped off his chin as he dropped the wrist he was holding to his mouth. Seeing her disapproving look, he forked out a wad of cash, giving the young girl a few hundred dollars and compelling her to forget the occurrence and go and buy herself something nice. Why he felt the need to was beyond him, but he was sure her eyes had something to do with it.

"I don't recall ever mentioning whether I cared or not for your tastes, Lucien" she snapped back, still not complacent with the fact that she would be spending the day in his soul-draining presence. Freya's stomach rumbled, and when she went into the kitchen, she found a stack of hot pancakes sitting out on the bench, drizzled in maple syrup and topped with strawberries and blueberries. Lucien trailed in after her, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.

"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I whipped up some pancakes."

Freya eyed the stack apprehensively, " _you_ made these? I didn't know you could cook."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Freya Mikaelson."

"And there are a lot of things that you don't know about me, Lucien Castle. If you did, you would know that I actually hate blueberries," her stomach growled in protest when she thought of rejecting them, and she couldn't be bothered cooking herself anything else, so she began to pick off the berries. "Years and years of foraging for them has made them the bane of my existence. After you, of course."

He ignored her last remark but wandered curiously as to what her life was like as a witch. He knew little about her other than the fact that she was Nik's long lost sister, having slept for a hundred years at a time and only waking for a year in interim after a spell was cast on her by her aunt, who was last years villain, apparently.

"Well, I know now and will remember that for future reference. I consider myself to be somewhat of a gentleman – I've made a habit of preparing breakfast for any woman who is still around the next morning. Feel free to add that to the list of things you know about me, for future reference." He winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

"You bribe the women you bed so that they will come back? How pitiful."

"Oh love, the women don't return for the sake of my delicious pancakes, I can tell you that now."

"You are revolting. But," she took a bite and savoured the sweet and tangy tastes dancing across her tongue, "your pancakes are edible."

"Was that a compliment? Oh my goodness, Freya Mikaelson actually has a heart? Let's not let those infant vampires get a hold of that story. They would have a field day!"

She rolled her eyes again at her over-exaggeration and continued to eat in silence, feeling his eyes bore into her as he leaned against the counter opposite the marble table she was sitting at. After five minutes of this, she slammed her fork down and gave him a pointed look.

"I would really appreciate if you didn't just stand there and watch me eat; it's creepy."

"I'm just thinking of all the things you could do with that pretty little mouth of yours."

A sigh escaped her lips as the understanding that there would be more of these comments throughout the day washed over her, and so she decided to just treat these with silence. Freya wasn't sure if she had enough witty comebacks for all of his provocations. She cut herself another piece of the pancake, and was about to plop it in her mouth when the vampire took her by surprise by rushing forward with that exasperating vampiric speed of his and seized the fork in his mouth. He pulled away from the fork slowly, savouring her expression, and smiled with his mouth full.

"Mm, absolutely delectable."

The blonde stared at the vampire in repugnance, then dropped her fork to the plate, declaring that she wasn't hungry anymore. She stood up, placing the plate in the sink, and marched off to her bedroom to retrieve her cell phone. Finding Davina's number, she called it and hoped the young witch would answer immediately and save her. When the phone went to voicemail, she screamed in frustration.

"I didn't think I would get to say that I made Freya Mikaelson scream in her own bedroom so soon."

The arrogant brute was standing in her doorway again. Oh, how she just wanted to snap his neck and leave him there. But it was against Elijah's wishes, and if Elijah found that Lucien had let her slip through his fingers, he would kill him. Which, now that she thought about it, wasn't seeming like a bad thing so far.

"Listen here Lucien. If we are going to be together for the entire day, I would really appreciate it if you toned back the flirtatious comments and sexual innuendos."

"But love, I thought that was our thing? You know, I tease you, you threaten me. I feel like we're getting along splendidly, don't' you?"

She kept glaring at him heatedly with those pretty eyes of hers, until the vampire finally threw up his hands in surrender. If she kept him under her gaze for much longer, his mind would begin to drift to the sight of them rolling back into her skull in pleasure.

"Fine, even I know when I'm being a hindrance. I suppose I could dial it back, just a tad. On one condition," when Freya breathed a sigh of relief, and immediately regretted it, knowing there would be a catch,"only if you ask nicely."

She groaned inwardly, staring at the vampire as to determine whether he was serious. Seeing no hint of a smile on his face, he held out his palms as an invitation, waiting patiently.

The immortal forced a fake smile and between gritted teeth mumbled "it would please me very much if you would keep your comments to yourself."

He put his finger on his lips, pondering.

"That didn't sound very sincere. Put a bit more feeling into it."

Freya could feel her eye developing a twitch. She was going to shish-kebab this damned vampire on the church's roof, and watch as he burned in the sun, screaming in suffering as she condemned him to the flames of hell. Surprisingly, this calmed her. Or rather expectedly, considering she was a Mikaelson, and her family did tend to have a short fuse.

"Please Lucien, I work better with quiet. Don't make me snap your neck again should I feel the need to."

"See love, what did I say? I tease you, you threaten me. Good fun."

"You aren't here to have fun, Lucien. You are supposed to be helping me find my brother, and I suppose we should start by finding Davina."

"No need, I think she just made herself present."

As he said that, the young witch walked through the doors of the compound.

"I am so sorry for missing your call Freya, I thought I would have a quick look around town again before I came," Davina huffed, clearly out of breath from rushing here.

"It's fine Davina. Come, sit down. Tell me everything… Elijah mentioned that you haven't seen Kol in a few days now?" the naturally clucky woman ushered the witch over to the seat, and Lucien suddenly decided that he would need a drink if he were to put up with the ancient-teen drama of the youngest Mikaelson. Davina was obviously distraught at the mention of her boyfriend and sat down, nervously twiddling her fingers together. Usually she would never be so nervous in front of a Mikaelson, but Freya seemed different. For one, she wasn't a blood-sucking monster like the rest. They were similar – witches always seemed to bond better most of the time. The natural instinct you had around vampires was to run as far away as you possibly could. Also, she felt as if she wasn't in the best position with the Mikaelson's right now; she had made an enemy of them in the past and her abhorrence to Klaus especially was evident. But Davina didn't know who else to turn to – the fact that Klaus wasn't around at that moment made her consider counting her blessings. Sure, Kol had assured her that it was all water under the bridge, but she still glanced over her shoulders from time to time.

"I just… I didn't know who else to go to. He hasn't been home in three days, and I've tried every spell I can think of to locate him but something is interfering with it – something strong." The fear and concern in her voice was apparent. The young witch wasn't only scared for Kol, but worried that maybe he had fallen off the rails again. Maybe his promise to her hadn't meant much to a thousand-year old immortal. She wasn't stupid; even the lack of surprise in Elijah's voice and his hinting to just that was hurtful. Tears prickled at her eyes and she swept a hand over her cheek quickly. The young witch was astounded when she felt a warm hand lay on hers.

"I don't know much about my brother Kol, but I can tell that he cares for you deeply Davina. I don't believe that he would just run off."

"Well, I don't mean to put a damper on this girl talk but I would like to point out that the youngest of the Mikaelson clan does not have a good track record. He is known as a psychotic vampire among psychotic vampires."

"Lucien can you just –"

"No, Freya, he's right. I know who and what Kol was. But that is all in the past, and he promised me he wouldn't hurt anyone anymore. But," she paused to take a deep breath, "I understand that there is a possibility that he could be off the rails. And as his girlfriend and the one who brought him back to life, it's my responsibility to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone."

Freya had always known that the girl, who could barely be any older than nineteen or eighteen, was very mature for her age. She had heard all about the harvest girls and Davina's tragic life. She was truly glad that her brother had someone like her around. The men in her family truly needed that sort of anchor to keep them grounded.

"Don't worry Davina. I will help you find him, I promise. Now you said that when you tried to locate him you were blocked from doing so?"

"Yes, it was an extremely strong interference. Like static."

"I guess then we will just have to look for him the old fashion way."

* * *

Freya, Lucien and Davina stood at the front desk of the police station, awaiting assistance.

"Do you watch a lot of crime shows, Freya?" Lucien asked, humour laced in his tone.

"Crime shows?"

"Yes, like House or… Scooby Doo."

"Scooby… Doo?" Freya did not understand what this meant, and Davina merely giggled.

"It's a children's cartoon, where they follow clues at a crime scene in order to find out the identity of the criminal," the younger witch explained to the thoroughly confused older one.

"I think I may have watched it once or twice," Freya mused, "I'm not particularly fond of those sorts of novels and stories – too unrealistic I think."

"Says the witch who slumbers for a hundred years in a glass coffin like a proverbial sleeping beauty," Lucien teased, but before Freya could shoot back a comment, the detective they had enquired for arrived.

"Hi there, I'm Detective Morris." A tall, dark man introduced himself to the three, shuffling papers in his hands. "You were asking for me?"

Lucien took a step forward, despite Freya and Davina's silent protest and plead that he not do anything stupid, to which he shot them a reassuring look.

"Hello there Detective. My name is Lucien Castle and –"

"Castle, did you say? Ah yes, I think you were the one detained on suspicion of murder, wasn't it? That case was never solved." He gave the vampire a stern look, hazel eyes clouded with distrust.

"I didn't realise I was so famous amongst the locals. And I will have you know the accusations against me were cleared. What is it they say in the courts? Innocent until proven guilty?"

Freya stepped in when she could tell he was about to mouth off and probably get them detained, though that could be fixed by Lucien's compulsion, she really wasn't in the mood to beat around the bush. She blocked his view and smiled kindly at the officer, who immediately raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry about my… associate. He can be extremely rude at times. My name is Freya Mikaelson, and I was just wanting to enquire about a possible recent missing persons' case or any recent arrests that may have taken place over the last three days."

"And what might you need that information for, Mrs Mikaelson?"

"Please, it's _Miss_ Mikaelson. And just call me Freya," she sent her brightest smile to her, and Lucien rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he observed her sly tactics. "As to why I might need to pertain that information, it's concerning my younger sibling who disappeared a few nights ago. I was wondering if maybe anyone had been admitted to a hospital or recently arrested. He does have a habit of just falling off the face of the earth."

 _Literally,_ she thought in her head. The detective had seemed to warm up to her more than Lucien, and she could tell he was contemplating revealing the information to her.

"Well, we haven't had any recent arrests or admissions of any males these last few days, however we did find a woman the other night out in the street who looked as if she may have been attacked."

Freya perked up at this news, while Davina felt her stomach drop.

"Was there anything strange about her?"

"Actually, yes there was. She couldn't seem to remember anything. At all. Not her address or what she was doing covered in blood, not even her own name. When the officers found her she was laying in the street in a pool of her own blood, well, they assumed the worst with all of those murders not long ago, but when they approached her they found she didn't have any external wounds. Not a scratch at all. She was admitted to the hospital and they are still treating her there for amnesia, testing her for possible head injuries and such."

They all glanced at each other, knowing where their next destination was.

"Well Detective Morris, I think we have all of the information we need now so thank you for your time," Freya beamed at him and turned to walk off, when he called after her.

"So Miss Mikaelson, since I helped you out and all and gave you information that broke almost every standard of police confidentiality, would you mind going for a drink later?"

Freya was about to reply that she would think about it, when Lucien rushed himself until he was standing in front of the man and stared straight into his eyes.

"You will not remember your encounter with us. Forget that we were ever here, and forget our faces."

After a few seconds the man blinked, staring at them all in confusion.

"Ah, sorry. Can I help you guys with anything?"

They apologized and hastily made their way to the hospital, Davina dragging behind Lucien and Freya.

"What gives you the right to do that, Lucien? He was genuinely nice to us, especially considering you were such an ass to begin with."

"Love, he is certainly _not_ your type. Besides, Detectives are nosey. They snoop around too much, and I don't think you would appreciate Elijah tearing his head from his shoulders when he discovers a little more than what he bargained for."

" First; what do you even think would be my type? Hm? And second; you're right. I wouldn't want you compelling him to hate his life so much that he almost offs himself, now will I?"

"That Detective now lives a long, prosperous life in the dark. Where all humans should be."

"Superiority complex, much?" Davina mumbled under her breath, all too depressed to dish out any snarky insults towards his species. Upon noticing this, Freya slowed down so she was walking next to the girl.

"I'm so sorry Davina. I know my brother had made a promise to you not to feed off of humans." Freya muttered softly, feeling all too guilty that she couldn't do anything to make the young girl feel better. He obviously had a problem, and had she noticed it sooner she may have been able to do help in some way.

"I am just having a hard time seeing how this Kol is different to the old one. I want to believe and support him more than anyone else but this is really making me feel as if it's my fault he has hurt people."

"You should look on the bright side, darling. At least he left her alive, and even healed her. That isn't sort of thing I would have expected from the Kol I knew a thousand years ago, and especially not from the Kol I had heard terrifying tales of but two centuries ago," Lucien stated indifferently, continuing to walk with his hands in his pockets.

"If you really want to believe he has changed, then prove it. Do not ever doubt your feelings. Because as long as one person believes that there is redemption for us villainous creatures, then perhaps we may be able to grasp it."

Freya stared bewilderedly at the back of the vampire, mouth agape, who casually began to whistle toons to himself, as if completely unaffected by the sombre aura emanating from Davina. He didn't seem to realise it, and if he did he exhibited no indication of it, that his words affected Davina. Her look of despair turned to one of awe briefly, then to determination. Just by saying a few words, Lucien had completely changed the mood.

 _I guess his talents as a motivational speaker aren't unwarranted,_ she thought absentmindedly.

 _Redemption…_ Freya pondered his words for the rest of the day.

 _As long as someone believes in your redemption... I wonder, do you have anyone that believes in you, Lucien?_


End file.
